


I think I thought I saw you try

by caixa



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (mild), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Burky/Vrana and Wilson/Vrana are party hookups, Daddy Kink, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Kempny/Vrana is endgame, M/M, Roommates, Sharing Clothes, almost a songfic at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: Michal isn’t too sure how Jakub knows all these people. It’s an international, diverse bunch: young, free to express and explore, no strings attached.It seems to suit Jakub well. Some days and nights, Michal thinks, worryingly well.--Two Czechs can be very different.





	I think I thought I saw you try

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ancientdeceiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancientdeceiver/gifts).



> First of all: thanks for arranging this wonderful exchange!
> 
> But just as importantly: thank you grubauers for the inspiring request! I could have worked on multiple of your pairings or prompts but due to the pre-Christmas real life duties had to choose one. This pairing tickled my imagination the most this time and I sincerely hope you like the result.
> 
> \--
> 
> This story would not exist without my amazing friend and writing muse boatbehind who has dragged me, a devoted Carolina Hurricanes fan, deep down the Caps rabbit hole where I doubt I would have stumbled otherwise. It's firmly rooted in our shared au headcanon "what if Washington Capitals were Finnish STEM students because they sure party like _teekkarit_ on May Day".
> 
> I have spun this story off that universe and put the characters in a different student culture - one of which I have no first hand experience, so all of the world-building is whipped out of my head, based on American TV and movies and college AU fan fiction. Blame any inaccuracies on that.
> 
> The title is from Losing my Religion by R.E.M. which Braden Holtby may or may not have sung. In this story he does.
> 
> Sexual activity happens mostly off-screen so I hope M is the right rating. If you want to suggest something else or want me to tag something I haven't, please say so in comments. I'm open to all feedback - corrections and concrit welcome (but don't make me cry the bad kind of tears).
> 
> Have fun!

 

**The** semester is already underway when Michal Kempny arrives at the campus but he’ll have to go with it. He will, he tells himself; he has to.

 

Everything was supposed to be okay but of course there had to be a problem. The exchange program had been cut and the spot allocated to him – how is it even possible? - had vanished from the papers.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman in the international office of his university said as if it helped. Michal used all his willpower not to throw a tantrum but plead with reasonable arguments for her to try and come up with a solution because he had everything arranged for the year abroad. Scholarship granted to cover the tuition. Money saved up and milked from his parents for other expenses. Passport and visa organized. Courses selected. Belongings packed and moved out of his dorm room to a cramped closet at his childhood home.

“Please,” he said, and the lady said she’d see if something could be done.

 

Michal was on his cooldown cycle on a treadmill when the call came. He wiped sweat from his hands to answer the phone and stepped down to talk. There had been a cancellation from some other university and the place could be transferred to Michal.

“You know, the courses will have started.”

Michal shook his head to the blind eye of the phone.

“I don’t mind. I’ll take it, of course. I’ll go. Thank you so much for working this out!”

 

* * *

 

So he arrives, in the middle of autumn, to the buzzing beehive of an American campus in Washington DC.

He is met by a curly-haired older student, the dormitory supervisor, to see him to his dorm room and give him the keys.

"Backstrom?" Michal confirms, memorizing the name given to him in the office email.

"Nicklas Backstrom, yes." He pronounces the name differently. "Call me Nicke. And you're Michal, right?" Michal nods to the tentative glance as they keep walking. "Welcome. We've put you in a room with another Czech. I hope it makes things easier for you, coming in so late and all, having someone to talk to in your own language and such."

 

The shared language sure helps Michal to feel at home, but as two Czechs go, he and his new roommate are like night and day.

Jakub Vrana does not only look totally different from Michal. He is younger and notably smaller than him and blonde where Michal has a head full of unruly dark curls but that is not all; he also acts in ways Michal thinks he never would.

Jakub greets him with a handshake and a giggle, but that’s about all Michal sees of him on his first day. The bubbly blonde kid turns quickly from him to arrange his thin, flyaway hair in front of the mirror, humming to himself and taking sips of a can of local beer he has on the shelf as he’s getting ready to go out.

“You should come! Definitely!” Jakub exclaims to Michal over his shoulder. “Chi Alpha Pi is the coolest fraternity, they have the best parties, and you’ll be welcome there if you come with me. You’ll meet everybody on your first evening here, what could be better?”

Michal can think of a number of better ways to spend his first, travel-weary and jet-lagged night than drinking with total strangers.

“Thanks but – some other night,” he says. “I need to wake up early tomorrow.”

Jakub shrugs, bobbing his head to side to side, grinning at his mirror image. “Whatever suits you, dude!” he blabbers nonchalantly and is soon out of the door.

 

The first encounter pretty much sets the tone to their co-habiting. Jakub flounders into their room drunk after parties, even on weeknights, whereas Michal is buried head deep in his books trying to catch where the others are in their studies.

It’s not that Jakub isn’t helpful – he is, he really tries his best. He even gets up to Michal’s alarm on Michal’s first morning and insists to see him to the office to get his student ID card before his first lectures. He’d escort Michal to his classes, too, but Michal assures he’ll find his way.

“Okay. I believe you. But we’ll meet for lunch, okay? See you at the main cafeteria! It’s over there, we just walked past it.”

 

* * *

 

Jakub adds Michal to all his group chats and to his snapchat and forces Michal to follow his Instagram. Michal is not sure if it’s pushy or nice but decides to think it’s nice.

The longer he shares a room with Jakub the more he starts to genuinely think that it _is_ nice. Jakub is never too hungover to ask him how his day has been and whenever he spots Michal alone on campus, he always drags him to the circle of friends he’s hanging out with.

 

Michal isn’t too sure _how_ Jakub knows all these people. It’s an international, diverse bunch where everyone seems to be from somewhere else: among US citizens there are Canadians, Russians and Swedes, at least – but maybe that’s exactly why Jakub seems to feel so much at home with them. They’re all young, out of the reach of their families, breaking out of their childhood surroundings, finding roles that are different than the ones that used to define them wherever they grew up. Free to express and explore, no strings attached.

It seems to suit Jakub well. Some days and nights, Michal thinks, _worryingly_ well.

 

Halloween week is a perfect example. There are parties throughout the week to choose from, not only on the Halloween, and Jakub has no hesitation to attend as many of them as he just can. He goes in and out of their dorm room in various states of drunkenness and various attempts at a fancy costume, sometimes coming back at midnight, sometimes at sunrise, sometimes not before Michal has left for his classes.

 

“I have your costume!” Jakub’s Swedish friend André exclaims as he enters Jakub and Michal’s dorm room with a big shopping bag in his hand.

He digs out garments that Jakub greets with an exhilarated grin. Michal, on the other hand, grows more suspicious after each item of clothing.

“Are you sure?” he asks in a low voice when he sees Jakub in the costume: Michal can’t really describe how his roommate looks in his mock cowboy outfit. He has a fringed vest and fringed chaps made of gold-colored faux leather, and a golden cowboy hat. Under the chaps he wears bright red, tighter-than-life spandex shorts and under the vest – nothing, if the golden glitter that giggling André generously spreads over his pecs and abs doesn’t count.

“Yeah, yeah! The theme is Wild West!” Jakub nods enthusiastically. “Yeehaw!”

Michal looks at Jakub from under his thick brows. “I mean are you sure you shouldn’t have a shirt under that… thing?” he gestures towards Jakub. “You’ll be cold.”

“No! It will ruin the outfit!”

“And nobody will see the glitter,” André adds.

Michal shakes his head. “You’re such children sometimes,” he says.

“And you’re such a _dad_ , Michal,” Jakub replies, and something in it makes Michal _feel_ things in ways he doesn’t want to look into too deeply.

He waves his hand at the boys, letting out a huff.

“Whatever. Be safe.”

Jakub giggles and turns to André. “What did I just say? A true _dad_.”

“And have fun!” Michal tries a weak save, but the two glitter cowboys are already opening the door.

Shirtless, Christ.

Okay, they are legal adults, Michal shouldn’t say a word.

But he can’t help it.

“At least a jacket over it?” he suggests.

The boys turn around on the doorstep. André takes the bomber jacket hanging on his hand and obediently draws it over his torso. Jakub’s eyes scan the room and dart at a hook by the door. Michal follows his gaze: his own jacket hangs there. It’s actually a lined plaid flannel shirt, thick and warm enough to keep the cold out on chilly mornings. Jakub says he looks like a lumberjack in it. Maybe a cowboy might wear that kind of a thing, too.

“You can borrow it,” Michal nods towards it with his head. “Just remember to bring it back.”

Jakub’s face lights up with a wide smile, he picks up the shirt and pulls it on. It hangs almost comically from his shoulders, covering his hands down to his fingers.

He leaps to Michal’s side in one big stride, smacks a beer-smelling kiss on his bearded cheek and hops out again.

“Thanks, daddy!” he hollers above his shoulder and is out again, two drunk giggles echoing in the hallway outside their door.

Michal sinks down on the floor next to his bed, hand on his cheek.

 

Just before Michal’s alarm is supposed to go off the next morning he wakes up to a racket at the door as Jakub all but stumbles in. He giggles as he takes off Michal’s jacket in clumsy, exaggerated moves, flounders between their beds and holds out the jacket towards Michal as he slouches down on his bed.

Michal sits up to take the jacket, reflexively dusting off bits of glitter from its lining.

“I told you I’d bring it back to you,” Jakub mumbles.

“ _I_ told you you should,” Michal corrects. “Had fun?”

“Yee-haw!” Jakub crows in a wobbly voice. He swipes his forehead with his fingers, looks at them and giggles: there’s glitter apparently everywhere. “Oh shit! I got this on me from André’s belly!” He blushes suddenly and tries to purse his lips to hold another giggle in but to no avail, it bubbles out of his mouth. “Shit, I mean no! I totally didn’t blow André in his room and he totally –“ Jakub stops, brushes his hand through his hair, glitter shedding onto his pillow “—didn’t pull my ha- _fuck_ , nevermind.” He shuts his mouth abruptly, gets out of his bed in arduous moves and runs to the bathroom.

Michal hears vomiting sounds.

His hands feel suddenly weak when he continues his futile try to brush the jacket clean of the shiny little pieces. He pictures Jakub on his knees, the unfairly attractive, bubbly Swede pushing his hand into his hair, Jakub’s mouth gaping around his –

Michal forces himself to stop. No. He _can’t_ be jealous of his _roommate_ for godssake, the little –

Jakub comes back to the room and slumps face down on his bed. Michal expects to hear snoring soon but Jakub turns a puffy face towards him on the pillow.

“Thanks for the jacket, Michal,” he says. “It was chilly. It was good I had it.”

A small smile seeps onto Michal’s face, crinkling his eyes although there’s stiffness around the corners of his lips.

“No problem. It’s good you had it.”

Michal’s alarm goes off and he’s quick to press snooze. It’s only five minutes, he won’t be late with one.

“Sorry about the glitter. I’ll try to clean it later,” Jakub mutters.

Michal is surprised he had paid attention to it at all.

“It’s okay,” he says.

Jakub gestures towards a dresser on the opposite wall.

“I have sticky roller in the top drawer. Wilson gave it to me, told me I shouldn’t look scruffy in a suit.” Jakub lets out a short burst of soft laugh. “Like I even have a suit. But it should work. With the glitter. If you need to clean it now. Or then I’ll do it later.” He coughs. “But not now, I don’t want to barf again.”

Michal feels an urge to reach over to Jakub’s bed and scruff his messy thin hair, telling him to go to sleep. He stifles the former and settles with the latter.

“Go to sleep, V.”

Among getting ready for the day, Michal finds the roller Jakub was talking about and haphazardly rolls over the bits that look the most sparkly.

“Michal,” he hears Jakub’s muffly voice as he is ready to leave, surprised the fellow is still awake.

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t wearing your shirt when we – you know. No sex was had in it.”

Michal’s heart jolts in his chest at Jakub’s mention. Why should it be significant to point it out?

Nevertheless, a grin finds its way onto his face. Maybe there’s a bit of relief somewhere in the bottom of his mind because he comes out with the perfect, light comeback.

“Maybe not this time - and maybe not by you,” he replies and winks at Jakub – or at the messy blond head almost buried under a blanket.

 

Michal finds pieces of glitter on himself throughout the day but he only smiles at them.

In the evening Jakub isn’t going out – he finds old Czechoslovakian children’s cartoons on Youtube and turns his laptop so that Michal sees it from his bed. He’s calmer and quieter than Michal remembers ever having seen him as he meticulously cleans the plaid jacket, sitting on crossed legs on his bed.

 

* * *

 

Jakub keeps being nice and asking Michal along whenever he’s going out with friends. Michal starts agreeing to the invitations, mostly when it’s about grabbing a beer or two after heavy lectures, or watching hockey or football on weekends. (He doesn’t get much out of the American football at first, but Jakub’s American friends are eager to explain.)

“But you still haven’t been to a Chi Alpha Pi party,” Jakub reminds him one day as they are strolling back to their building after their classes have ended at the same time. “You’re coming to the next one, even if I have to drag you there!”

“You dragging me?” Michal laughs. “Okay, I’ll come.”

He’s pleased by the dumbfounded expression on Jakub’s face at his casual okaying. But if there’s a good time to do it, it’s now: he has some huge papers out of his hands, the results from the midterm exams are in and his grades looked good. He feels he has finally eased himself into the system; now he can kick back for a minute and take a breath before starting to get ready for the finals.

Jakub’s surprise melts into a giant smile. “Sweet,” he says. “You’ll have fun.”

 

Michal ends up seeing Jakub at the party a lot less than he expected. The two-story house is so full of people he loses his roommate as soon as he goes to the toilet, later seeing glimpses of him dancing, or getting a drink, or playing some kind of a drinking game around the kitchen island.

Music starts blasting once Holtby, a bearded architecture student, and a slightly intimidating, loud Russian STEM graduate they call Ovi set their quarrel about the music selection.

“Okay, Russian techno for half an hour, then you’ll put it down while I play,” Holtby shouts over Ovi’s DJ set, patting his guitar case, and Ovi nods.

The doorbell rings furiously, someone really wants to be let in. TJ Oshie, one of the frat brothers, goes to answer the door and André enters with a wooden box on his arms, placing it on a table in the middle of the lounge with a huff, like unloading a heavy burden. He lifts the lid and picks up a bottle of champagne in each hand.

“Bubbles, everybody!” he exclaims.

Wilson, another frat guy, peeks into the case and lifts a bottle to study the label closer.

“Hell dude, this is expensive stuff! Who did you rob?”

“Babysitting fee,” André says, pushing his tongue in his cheek and nudging Tom’s elbow, “If you know what I mean. I might have taken some care about the mom and dad too.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Please. I don’t wanna hear your hoe stories with married couples.”

André shrugs. “I can’t help it if they like me,” he says and raises his voice to call for glasses.

“I’ll put the rest of these in the fridge,” Tom mutters, heaving the case onto his arms. From Michal’s seat he looks slightly grumpy, and when he returns from the kitchen and slouches down to Michal’s side on the lounge couch he still darts gloomy glances at André.

_Seems like I’m not the only one having trouble with these party boys_ , Michal thinks. There’s something oddly relieving in the shared misery.

André and Jakub, on the other hand, are not miserable at all. André has climbed on top of the lounge table with a bottle and is emptying it into an odd collection of champagne flutes (a few glass ones, mostly plastic versions), red Solo cups and coffee mugs held out towards the champagne flow. Jakub makes sure he gets his share, chugging the sparkly drink down so eagerly it almost foams out of his mouth, bubbling down his chin and dripping onto his shirt before he saves it by wiping it up with his fingers.

“Woo-hoo!”, he hollers in enthusiasm, gets his cup refilled and bounces on towards the makeshift dance floor to wave his hands up to the beat of ear-shattering Russian techno.

After clumsily mimicking the moves of the school’s cheerleading squad Jakub wanders out of Michal’s sight again, only to return right in front of him, handing him a plastic champagne flute. He raises his cup, making eye contact with Michal, and clicks his plastic glass with his own.

“ _Na zdraví!_ ” he yells.

Michal chugs his drink down in one go, and Jakub smiles at him fondly.

“I knew you’d do that!” he says and extends his hand to pull Michal up from the couch. “Now let’s show these people how to drink!”

Michal feels warm champagne bubbles inside his chest and lets Jakub lead him to the half-open kitchen area and to a series of shots, ignoring any second thoughts about how wise it is to indulge himself in such liberal amounts of alcohol after months of abstinence. He is Czech, for God’s sake; he can handle his booze.

He’s not too sure whether Jakub can, though. His roommate is crouched over the table, lips rounded around the rim of his fourth shot glass. They’re in the middle of a drinking game where Jakub has already had the three first shots with right, left and both hands, and is lifting the fourth with no hands.

He has defied bursts of eye-watering giggles and wavers on his feet after finally straightening his back in a whiplash move, the glass between his lips. Its contents spill mostly on his face. He flounders about on his spot like a twig in the wind, taking a couple of corrective side-steps to stand upright and wipes the liquor off his skin, laughing and sucking his fingers.

Michal wants to stop Jakub from doing that, and it may be a good idea to get him away from the booze for a moment.

“Dance?” he suggests, nodding sideways towards the techno lounge. Ovi has clearly gone over his half an hour but for now it’s only good that the dance music is blasting loud, it will give Jakub something to focus his energy on instead of more drinking games.

Jakub follows him – but not before grabbing a bottle of beer from an ice bucket on the kitchen floor.

“You didn’t need that,” Michal scolds and grabs the bottle, wrapping his hand over Jakub’s so casually he surprises himself. Jakub adapts to his touch, not letting go of the bottle as Michal lifts it for a swig.

The beer is cool after the burn of the vodka shots, the malty taste familiar but different from back home.

“Watered down,” he grins at Jakub, eyes squinting, as he eases the bottle and Jakub’s hand out of his touch. Jakub winks and nods in shared acknowledgement.

His face is still turned to Michal when he bumps into a tall, wide back towering over the dance floor. Tom Wilson turns around, his face melting into a sunny grin at the sight of Jakub.

“Jake! My man!” he hollers.

“Wil-SOON!” Jakub replies just as enthusiastically.

Tom gestures towards the DJ table. “I was going to tell Ovi it’s Holtby’s turn now.”

“But you haven’t even danced with me!” Jakub protests and turns to Michal, handing him the bottle. “Kempny, hold my beer.”

Michal has no idea what Jakub is doing but Jakub seems to think he has a brilliant idea. He leaps onto Tom’s arms, wrapping his arms and legs around him like a little monkey. Tom barely keeps his balance but soon settles with Jakub’s weight.

Jakub bounces to the rhythm of the music, hanging to Tom’s neck with one hand, the other waving in the air, shouting an exhilarated _“woo-hoo!”_  partly drowned by the pumping music.

It is and isn’t surprising. Jakub likes to party and he is casually tactile with his mates. Michal should not be shocked to see him wiggle his butt dangerously close to the front of Tom’s jeans.

“Hey, stop rocking, Jake!” Tom says. “You’ll topple us both.”

Jakub keeps bouncing and swinging. “No I won’t! You’re strong.” He humps his ass against Tom’s jeans again. “I bet you could fuck me like this.”

“Jake, you’re an idiot,” Tom chuckles drunkenly. “C’mon, I can’t keep you up.”

Jakub giggles. “Can I keep you up?” Another wiggle.

Tom grins but detaches his hands from where he’s supporting Jakub by the waist and butt and bends his knees to let him slide down. Jakub squeezes Tom's buttock as he parts from him.

“I could,” he grins mischievously.

“Fucking little tease,” Tom smiles, heading towards the couch. “Shit, I gotta sit down now. You wore me out.”

“I haven’t done nothing. Not yet.” Jakub follows Tom, apparently already having forgotten all about his beer – and Michal holding it. Michal shrugs and finishes the bottle, fighting the nasty feeling of being completely sidelined, and beelines to the kitchen to trade the bottle for a fresh one.

 

The cold beer feels grounding, calming and reassuring. Around him, a lot is happening at once.

The loud music winds down as Holtby adjusts a mic stand next Ovi's DJ table where he is taking a seat on a barstool with his guitar. Ovi steps back from his DJ set and comes to the kitchen. He slaps André on the butt and distracts the Swede from a ridiculous drinking game he is trying to master by the kitchen island, blowing at ping pong balls to guide them to tilted paper cups.

Tom, who has watched André from the lounge, hand resting on Jakub’s legs that the boy has lifted over his lap, shakes his head at the sight in the kitchen and turns his full attention to Jakub who, in turn, decides to sit up and straddle Tom.

 

Holtby clears his throat, counts to four and starts the opening chords of a R.E.M song. His playing isn’t bad at all, and his singing is even better.

But the song... Michal could really do without listening to the lyrics. At least while taking sidelong glances over to the lounge where Tom's fingers are sliding into Jakub's back pocket.

_That's me in the corner  
_ _That's me in the spotlight, losing my religion_

_Trying to keep up with you_

_  
And I don't know if I can do it_

 

He tears his eyes away from the couple and focuses on Holtby's performance. He's fooling himself if the tries to act like nothing bothers him; he realizes it when he clenches his fist so hard he winces when his own fingernails almost break his skin.

_Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool_

"Is everything okay?" 

Michal hears the voice of their dorm supervisor Nicklas Backstrom. He hasn't noticed the calm and friendly Swede at the party but it makes sense he is there: Michal has seen him hanging out with the frat guys, especially Ovi.

The normal reaction would be to say "Yeah," but Michal is too drunk for normalcy. He shakes his head with a huff. Nicke exudes reassuring energy that makes him feel safe enough to pour his heart out.

"Where do I have to ask to change rooms?" he says, his voice sounding miserable in his own ears.

"Is there something wrong with yours? Just tell and I'll get it fixed."

"No, the room is fine!" Michal assures. He scratches his head and sneers. "It's... I don't think I can take it with my roommate anymore."

"Jakub Vrana?" Nicke sounds surprised. "I thought you got along well. Is he giving you trouble?"

 

_Oh no, I've said too much._

 

Michal steals a look at the lounge couch again. Jakub is leaning back to Tom's knees, swaying slightly from side to side, and the look in Tom's eyes is intimate, darkened.

"No. Not like that. But yes. In some ways." Michal knows he's being ridiculously vague, but Nicke never loses the patient empathy on his face.

Michal sees Jakub collecting himself up from Tom's lap, taking his hand and pulling him up. Leading him out of the room as the rest of the crowd breaks into a thundering applause to Holtby.

He claps with the rest but his skin crawls.

"Wanna talk about it?" Nicke suggests. "I'll listen and help you any way that I can. That's my job, remember?"

"Uhh." Michal wants to talk but doesn't quite know what to say. "I think I should leave."

Nicke nods slowly. "I can walk with you back to the dorm. But I'd like to hear him a bit more," he gestures towards Holtby. "And you should probably tell Jakub you're leaving. I'll find him for you if you want to."

Michal shakes his head hurriedly. "No no, don't bother. Finding him I mean, I'll just text him I'm back at the dorm, that's no problem."

He agrees to staying for a couple more songs but the queasy feeling he has about Tom and Jakub doesn't fade away, nor does another beer dilute it.

"Sorry, I'm leaving now," he says to Nicke.

Nicke doesn't miss a beat. "Okay," he says, "Let's go then."

 

Michal tries the door of the guest bathroom in the hall but it's locked.

"Use the one upstairs! There are two in the hallway," Oshie advises. Michal climbs the stairs, realizing it's got to be the bedroom floor when he hears muffled, nauseating noise behind a closed door he passes.

As soon as he hears it he wishes he had chosen to relieve himself on some outside bushes.

He shouldn't listen, he really shouldn't. Not that he can really make out most of the words but what he hears tells enough with  _oh Tom, big_ and  _nail me to the fucking wall._

He finds the bathroom, does his business quick and quiet, head spinning with heated embarrassment. When he passes the door on his way back he tries not to hear anything, like the muffled, throaty moans never happened.

 

_That was just a dream, just a dream_

 

"So, how serious were you about wanting to move to another room, Michal?" Nicke asks outside.

Michal buries his hands deeper in his pockets and shrugs, casting a sidelong look at Nicke. 

"Would it be too much trouble?"

"I think it can be arranged if it's what you need. But what is it about Vrana that's bothering you? I can talk to him if it's something you don't want to bring up yourself," Nicke offers.

Michal sucks his teeth, the words are stuck in his mouth.

"His farts smell bad? He snores?" Nicke prompts through a mild, warm chuckle.

Michal's lips soften to a smile and he shakes his head.

"No, thank god. Jakub's a good roommate. This is different." He gathers courage with a deep breath. "You know, like tonight - he had asked me come to the party, to a house I had never been to, and then he just ditches me in the middle of it all and just goes out to - have sex with some fucking guy like I was not even there."

He looks at Nicke's face for a reaction and Nicke nods in empathy.

"Well, yeah. It sucks when a friend does that," Nickel agrees. "But can't you just say to him it wasn't cool and you wouldn't want him to do it again? Is it bad enough to make you want to move out?"

Michal sneers.

"It's not only that," he blurts out. "I think I have feelings for him. And it's hard when he's like -- the way he is." Michal shrugs uneasily. "Always flirting with someone. Wheeling at parties. Sleeping around."

"It hurts you," Nicke says quietly.

"It does."

They are getting closer to the dorm building. Michal notices Nicke has slowed down his step, a subtle way to give them time to talk.

"Does he know it? About your feelings?" Nicke asks softly. Michal shakes his head.

"I don't know. No."

"You haven't talked to him about it?"

"No, I haven't," Michal admits sheepishly.

"So he can't know that he hurts you because he doesn't know. Do you think he should know? Do you want to tell him?"

They're at the door know and Michal stops. An array of thoughts crosses through his mind: Nicke is right. Jakub doesn't know. How could he: Michal hasn't really admitted his feelings even to himself. It has taken talking about them to an outside person to make them take a shape and form in his mind.

But does he want to tell Jakub? Would he make a fool of himself?

"I'm not sure," he says.

"It's okay," Nicke says. "These things take time." He slaps Michal's shoulder as he opens the door for them. "But consider it. What's the worst that could happen? If it goes badly, I will get you into another room. You guys have no same classes, it's easy to avoid him for the few months before you leave and you'll never see him again. And if it doesn't go badly, man -" Nicke raises his eyebrows suggestively - "How fun will the rest of the year be?"

 

 * * *

 

Michal's mind is set by the time he goes to bed and sets his alarm for the next morning. He will do what always helps him think: sweat the alcohol out at the gym (who cares if it's not healthy? He's young, his body can take it). Jakub will still be asleep, either hungover in his own bed or at the party house.

They will talk, but not before they're both sober and sensible. Not before he has talked to Nicke again and made sure he has a free place in a room where he can move his shit  _immediately_ , an instant escape from Jakub if things get awkward.

The plan calms him into a mercifully deep, thick, dreamless sleep.

 

He is awakened with a bang.

His mattress tilts behind his back, a warm body weight flops onto him and a pungent smell of booze breath fills the air around him.

"Michal! You're here, thank god thank god thank god, I was so worried, I couldn't find you! But you're here. My man." Jakub pants, out of breath like he had been running. 

Michal awakens slowly to a realization of where he is. In his own bed, yes, with Jakub practically spooning him over his comforter.

He looks over his shoulder. Wrong move. Jakub's whole face, as much as Michal sees in the faint night light through the curtains, lights up which is nice but there's a blow of liquor breath on his face.

Besides, Jakub punches him in the bicep.

"Don't ever scare me like that again!"

Michal could have used the sleep until his alarm, really. He's not prepared.

"Jakub," he mutters, voice groggy and sleep-sluggish.

Jakub props himself up with his elbow and gives Michal a drunk, accusatory look.

"Why did you leave me like that?"

Michal turns to his back to better face Jakub. Jakub's upper leg still presses his as a disturbingly pleasant weight he probably should ignore.

"Me?  _I_ left  _you_?" he crows. He clears his throat to speak better. "Dude,  _you_ dragged me there and ditched me to hook up with that big guy. Tom."

Jakub's eyes squint and lips turn to a apologetic expression. "Sorry. I didn't think." He nudges the spot he just punched, but without force this time.  "But you still scared me! You should have sent me a message you left early."

"I sent you a text."

Jakub shifts on the bed to dig his phone from his pocket. His body presses to Michal's side tighter. "No message," he says.

Michal picks his from the nightstand and scrolls to the messages. His newest is an unsent draft. "You're right," he says eventually, returning the phone to the table. "It wasn't sent."

Jakub puts his phone down and looks at Michal.

"You shouldn't have left. I wasn't gone that long. Holts was still playing when we - when I got back to the lounge. Everybody was singing along _Wonderwall._ It was awesome."

"That's -" Michal stops abruptly. "Jakub, you're here in all his - gross. Shit, go to your own bed. You're nasty."

"I had a shower!" Jakub protests. He squints suspiciously. "Wait - what? How do you know what I was doing anyway?"

"Hello, Jakub. You two on that couch, don't you remember? It was pretty obvious where it was headed." Michal swallows. "And I overheard you."

"What the fuck, you listened through the door?"

"I  _heard_! Total accident! I used a bathroom upstairs."

Jakub looks embarrassed but soon darts a new kind of quizzical look at Michal.

"Was that why you left, Michal?"

"What?"

"Were you upset? To hear us fucking?"

Michal's chest tightens reflexively at the last word. He takes a deep breath before he answers.

"Maybe I was."

Jakub raises his eyebrows slightly and something in his expression makes Michal want to go on.

"I can't say I was happy about it," he continues, locking eyes with Jakub. "I like you. I like you too much not to care if you ditch me for some party sex." He lifts his hand to brush his hair back from his forehead, holding back his will to swallow because he doesn't want his nerves to show as a bobbing Adam's apple. "I have feelings for you, Jakub. I don't know what exactly but I know it was enough that it hurts to see you more interested in other guys."

This is not at all how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be fresh, sober, awake and in control.

Jakub's face softens.

"I -" he starts, "You - you like me?"

He turns closer to Michal, reaches his hand from his forehead in his and laces their fingers. God, Michal hopes his hands weren't sweaty but Jakub doesn't seem to mind. 

"If I had known I would never have done it. I mean, I had fun but it's not worth it if it hurts you. I'd never hurt you on purpose."

"That's relieving," Michal says dryly. He feels vulnerable after his confession, hanging over a void, desperate for reassurance and worried it shows in his eyes. This was definitely not how it was supposed to go.

"I mean," Jakub says, extending his other hand to brush Michal's cheek from his temple down to his bearded jawline with a fingertip, "Do you even know how hot you are? How I've had some of the most fun times this fall just hanging out with you? How you're the only one who can pronounce my name right out here?" His eyes study Michael's face. "I thought you weren't interested. You never wanted to go anywhere when I asked." Jakub wrinkles his nose and wipes it, like it itched. Damn it looks cute.

"Remember that one time when you borrowed me your jacket?" Jakub continues. "I kissed your cheek and called you daddy. Man, I was so embarrassed. I thought you must hate me."

Michal's dick twitches involuntarily at the memory.

"I liked it," he says, eyes flashing dark, sliding his hand up Jakub's back, curling his fingers against the warm, firm muscle. "A lot."

A spark of interest flicks in Jakub's eye, he smiles. "I was so sure I just wasn't your type."

"How could you not be somebody's type?"

"How? Look at yourself. You're so mature. Serious, your shit always together, always knowing what you want."

An unexpected warmth has started seeping into Michal's being, and he can't help smiling.

"You seem to know what you want, too, Jakub. As long as it's beer and dick," he teases.

Jakub nudges Michal's thigh with his knee.

"Maybe I could do with some dick right now, Michal," he teases right back.

"You could ask nicely, Jakub."

"Please, daddy."

Michal runs his hand down the curve of Jakub's buttock. He follows the back seam of his jeans and gives his ass a possessive squeeze, pleased to hear Jakub gasp audibly.

"Will you let me own this?"

"Oh yes, daddy," Jakub breathes out, pressing a promisingly hardened crotch to the side of Michael's hip.

They really need to lose the comforter between them, Michal decides, but not before he pulls his boy into a deep, exploring kiss.

 

Nicke was right: it's time to start finding out how fun the rest of the year can be.

Maybe this is exactly how the morning was supposed to go.

 

* F i n *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos highly appreciated.  
> I am caixxa and badhockeymom on tumblr.


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